


Oh! You Pretty Things

by ExpressAndAdmirable



Series: The Heroes of Light [10]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Final Fantasy I
Genre: Backstory, Gen, POV Animal, Slice of Life, Tiefling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 03:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13158045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpressAndAdmirable/pseuds/ExpressAndAdmirable
Summary: A day in the life of a Cornerian street cat, featuring two strangers who have not yet become Heroes.





	Oh! You Pretty Things

The sun was warm. This pleased him; it was always a good day when the sun was out. The summer breeze was soft, carrying the smell of salt water and the cries of seagulls up from the docks. Maybe today would be the day he caught a seagull. But probably not. The thought did not bother him.

The ginger cat opened his eyes, rolling to his feet with a yawn and a stretch. He surveyed the city from his position on the flat stone roof. The streets had awoken as he napped, tall two-legged creatures of every shape and colour bustling to and fro. He assumed they were preparing for the coming gathering, when thousands of them poured into the city and made an almighty ruckus and dropped all manner of food scraps when they weren’t paying attention. It was a busy day down on the ground.

He looked across the rooftops and found the view much calmer. Smoke floated lazily upwards from chimneys and a few fat birds pecked at a nearby window. He considered stalking his way towards them, maybe catching himself a meal, but decided against it. He had people to visit today; there was no need for unnecessary effort.

After another thorough stretch, the cat hopped down a rickety stack of crates to the alley below. It was cooler in the shadows, and he took some time to lick the taste of sunlight from his fur. Once he was properly fortified, he padded to the mouth of the alley and watched the flow of traffic, momentarily regretting his decision to come down to street level. Crossing the wide boulevard was hazardous on a regular day and it was only going to become more so as the city swelled with festival goers. But there was no direct route across the city from above, and the cat was feeling cheeky. He waited, gauged the speed of the oncoming cart, then darted forward.

The horse whinnied and stumbled as the ginger cat shot across her path. The cart fastened behind her pitched sideways, but righted itself before it toppled completely. The man on the seat of the cart sounded very cross. The horse looked furiously at the cat. The cat blinked at her from the safety of the other side of the road, then flicked his tail and vanished down another alley.

From there, the route was a simple one. Down a few more side streets, up and over a building, around a courtyard to an open shop door. The scents of metal and grease wafted out to mix with the late summer air. The cat ambled inside.

The woman sitting on the counter of the shop, deeply absorbed in a project that clinked and clanked, was smaller than most of the two-legged creatures in the city. Her features, by contrast, were quite broad: wide eyes, large almost-pointed ears and a huge puff of hair the colour of ripe plums. Her dark skin sometimes made her blend into the dimness of the shop, but the cat had no such trouble finding her. She did not notice him enter. All the better.

Silently, the cat approached the counter. He leaned back on his haunches, readied himself with a few twitches of his low back, then leapt onto the wooden surface. The woman yelped and almost fell backward, instinctively brandishing the metal implement in her hand, but calmed when she identified the intruder. She gave him a withering look and said something that was probably cutting; he blinked slowly in reply. She continued to scowl at him for a moment, then softened, setting the tool at her side and offering her little hand. He bypassed it and stepped right in to headbutt her, rubbing the side of his face against hers and tickling her with his whiskers. She giggled and scratched behind his ears with both hands, eliciting a soft purr that vibrated through her fingertips.

Feeling quite comfortable indeed, the cat curled himself into a ball and flopped directly onto the woman’s project. It was an odd shape. He did not mind. She, however, protested, shoving her hands underneath him to retrieve the pieces and looking at him in offended disapproval. He yawned and stretched, perfectly innocently, just far enough to knock several of her tools off the counter. With a sigh and a grumble, she stepped onto a short ladder and clambered down to the floor.

The cat closed his eyes and listened to her putter around her shop. She picked up her tools, climbed the ladder to deposit them back on the counter, climbed back down, disappeared into a back room, returned a few moments later. Something smelled familiar. He heard the clatter of metal against the floorboards, followed by liquid splashing. Milk: that was the smell. He opened his eyes and let his head hang over the edge of the counter to see for himself. The woman said something and gestured to the metal bowl at her feet. He considered, then rolled off the counter and landed surprisingly gracefully in front of the bowl. She gave him a pat and returned to her project.

When the bowl was empty, the cat tucked his paws underneath himself and napped on the shop floor for awhile. The sun had shifted when he woke up, and the woman was helping a much larger customer with his pile of broken metal bits. The cat sauntered out the door without so much as a goodbye. He had other places to be.

The path to his next destination took the cat along the docks. He kept to the edge of the buildings, watching the water suspiciously, as if it planned to reach out of its confines and kidnap him. It was a shame so many delicious things lived in water. He turned onto a side street and followed his nose until he came to the shop that smelled of hide and ink. The door was open, but he was not interested in the front entrance; there was music coming from the courtyard behind. He flitted through the narrow passage between the buildings.

She sat with her legs folded on the back steps of the shop, a wooden instrument tucked under her chin and a horsehair bow in her hand. This two-legged creature was easily at least twice the height of the other woman, with warm red skin and curved horns that swept back over her purple hair. She opened her eyes, the same golden hue as the cat’s, and smiled down at him. He hopped up the steps and crawled directly into her lap, looking up at her with distinct fondness, and she set her bow aside to stroke his fur. She had taken care of him when he was young, and he had not forgotten. Once he was fully settled and purring contentedly, she retrieved her bow and set it to the strings of her instrument once again. He slept.

When the cat woke, several hairs had loosened from the bow, dangling tantalisingly just above his head. He showed the woman his belly as he grabbed for them. She saw his mood and paused her music to wiggle the bow, laughing softly as they played. Abruptly, as was his wont, he decided he was finished with their game and jumped down from her lap. He turned to her and mewed. He was hungry. She knew.

The woman stood and left the cat on the steps as she entered the shop. He knew he could follow her, but today he preferred not to. A minute later she reappeared, dish in hand. She resumed her seat and placed the plate beside her on the step. Chicken and fish, his favourite. He ate as she practiced. When he was finished, he rubbed against her knee in gratitude and departed before she could respond.

It had been a most satisfying day. The cat made his way through the darkening streets until he found one of the routes leading up to the rooftops. He leapt from slate to thatch to tile, watching the two-legged creatures go about their business. He spied the little woman in the market, and he sat and watched her for a time. She passed by the tall woman as she also perused the stalls, but the tall woman’s back was turned. They did not see one another. The cat wondered if they would meet.

Perhaps tomorrow he would bring one of them a mouse. He was very considerate, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Title song by David Bowie.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at @expressandadmirable for a proper table of contents for the Heroes campaign, commissioned character art, text-based roleplay snippets and more!


End file.
